Sick days
A/N~ Well! Just a small drabble that I once had on my DA page that has now been moved here. And why is this posted before all others? Well, I'm still sick currently, and well, it was kind of fitting to my mood. So I spent the next hour and a half or so revising and editing this little drabble, and voila! Here it is! Please enjoy!
HUMAN!Bionicle ahead!
Summary: Matoro gets sick. Nuju finds out. Matoro doesn't want to have a sick day and refuses to get in the damn bed without a fight. And get your heads out of the gutter, that last part WASN'T supposed to sound dirty!
Rating: T for mild swearing.
Genre: Family/comfort/fluff.
Pairings: None.
Characters: Nuju, Matoro, Ehrye , Kopaka , Kopeke.
X~X~X~X~X~X
Never did he think he could have SO much hate for such a small devise…
But it seems even hate can be directed at even the smallest of things. In this case, the thermometer that sat rather innocently on Matoro's bathroom counter with a reading. Said Matoran was glaring rather defiantly at said devise as if he was willing it to blow up. If anyone else were seeing this, they would claim to see little sparks jumping between Matoro's eyes and the thermometer. That's just how intense it was.
The damn thing had to be lying. But no, machines couldn't lie, Matoro just wished they could so he'd have an excuse to ignore it pretend everything was alright.
He had a fever…
101 degrees to be precise. Oh joy.
Oh as if waking up with a splitting headache and feeling like Ehrye put a cherry-bomb in his lungs wasn't enough, he just had to have a fever! And even more good news! If he showed up to work and Nuju found out he even so much had a small cough (which he did), he'd be on his case like a mad mother hen. Oh joy…
'You're doing this just to piss me off aren't you?' he thought to the thermometer. He was starting to wonder if it was possible to take sadistic pleasure out of flushing the damn thing down the can…
But he digressed. He had to get to work, and if he played it cool, no pun intended, he could get through his work day without so much as a palm to the forehead. He'd be FINE.
'Just act natural, don't cough, no sniffling, just get it over with and you'll have a damn fine day…' he thought rather sourly.
Coffee in hand (a regular mocha latté with extra cream and heated at exactly 115 degrees) and his coat hanging in the other (the fever was making him feel a bit warm) Matoro entered the Turaga's open door.
"Morning." He said as he passed the Turaga's desk. The Turaga was pouring over a few documents as he walked by, so he managed to get past him pretty quickly.
"Morning…" he said, obviously distracted.
Matoro gave a silent thank you to Mata-nui for the distraction. One look at his flushed face would automatically spell trouble for him. Sighing in relief, and resisting the urge to cough to clear up his throat, Matoro took his usual spot in the chair on the right side of the Turaga's desk, setting his coffee down on the table beside him and his coat across his lap. Finding a small pile of files to go through, he eagerly hid his face behind them and began going over the papers.
The moment Matoro set foot into his hut, Nuju felt something was a bit…off. He barely heard the Matoran say 'morning' to him, he himself automatically greeting him back, before that nagging feeling was back again. Setting his papers aside, he scanned the room with a frown. Everything seemed in order…no Ehrye in sight, no sign of his brother Matau coming to bug him for some random reason or another (last time it was to ask him what a Rutabaga was…idiot.) and Matoro was right on time as always, mask fully formed over his face and… (1)
Wait…
So far so good. Nuju hadn't noticed a thing. And maybe it was because he dipped his head in ice cold water before he left, but he was starting to feel a bit better. Yep, Matoro was off the hook!
"Matoro…"
Or not…
'Damn it all to high Kharzani…' he thought. Calmly placing the papers aside and hoping his flushed face didn't show through his mask, Matoro responded.
"Yes sir?" he asked. He sweat dropped when Nuju fixed him with a scrutinizing look, as if scanning him like a high-power X-ray machine.
To say the least, it was a rather intimidating look, all things considered. And Matoro was easily becoming a bit uncomfortable, and it wasn't from the congestive pressure in his chest, nor was it his sore throat.
"Um, do I have something on my face?" he asked sheepishly.
Nuju raised a brow, as if he had heard exactly what was wrong from Matoro's voice alone. And suddenly realizing just why, Matoro clamped his mouth shut. His voice was raspy. This could not get any worse.
Mata-nui must be feeling rather humorous however, because much to Matoro's horror, Nuju stood up and approached him. He stood before Matoro with his arms crossed and expression critical. Matoro sank back into his seat slightly and gulped.
"Um…sir…?" he started, trying with all his might to not sound like he had swallowed a soldering rod. Nuju finally frowned and tapped his foot once.
"You've been rather quiet…" he said. Matoro gulped and kept his eyes locked onto the floor, clearing his throat. He winced at the gravely sound the action produced.
"Uh…h-have I? I didn't notice." He said. Nuju 'mm-hm'd and uncrossed his arms, placing his fists on his hips.
"Take off your mask."
"E-excuse me?"
"Take. Off. Your. Mask." Nuju emphasized impatiently.
He was getting annoyed, and neither he nor Matoro were in the mood to get into one of their famous debates. A headache was already setting into Matoro's head anyways, the last thing he needed was a migraine.
"U-um…why?" Matoro asked. Nuju resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead responded as calmly as he could be.
"Just take it off." not much or of an answer. Matoro instantly frowned as a spark of rebelliousness wormed its way into his person.
"I will if you tell me why." Matoro's once shallow wit deepened rather quickly into a dark abyss in under three point two seconds. A new record.
Nuju, however, was losing his patience and reached for the Matoran's mask, grasping the curve that bent over the edge of the hairline. He was about to swiftly pull it off when Matoro's hands shot up and gripped the sides of his mask. Nuju's eyes narrowed.
"Matoro, let go and let me see." He said.
"N-no need! I'm fine…! *cough*!" Matoro yanked backwards while Nuju pulled forwards, both now in a game of tug-o-war.
"I said let go!"
"It's MY face!"
"And this is MY hut!"
"Well yank your own mask off! *cough, couch*!"
"Matoro!"
"NO!"
"Why you little-!"
"GAH-!
FWUMP!
Well this was just lovely, they both thought. Matoro seemed to underestimate just how strong Nuju was, and after one last tug from the Turaga, found himself sprawled over said Turaga in a heap on the floor, his mask held over Nuju's head. He couldn't fight away the coughing fit he had with his face hidden in Nuju's taut stomach.
"Ugh…" Nuju sat up on his elbows and growled, rubbing the back of his head and frowning down at Matoro, "Matoro, get up." he growled.
"'ive me 'y 'ask!" was the muffled response against his stomach, followed by a tight cough and wheeze. Nuju rolled his eyes and threw Matoro's mask up onto his desk, trying to pry the clinging Matoran from his person. The Matoran responded by clamping his arms tightly around Nuju's waist to keep his face hidden. Nuju inevitably growled, all patience lost.
"Matoro, you are so immature sometimes!" he snapped as he shoved Matoro off and onto his rear, dusting himself off. He averted his gaze to Matoro, expecting to find him pouting or glaring, but was surprised to find flustered cheeks and glassy, tired eyes, mouth forming various 'O' shapes as he rasped in shallow breathes that came out as wheezing noises.
Well, he was expecting something, he just wasn't sure he was expecting this…
Matoro rubbed his forehead and groaned, trying to think of something, and hopefully his face back behind his mask. But no, he gets to watch as Nuju, face once annoyed now concerned, gets up and kneels down in front of him, brushing his bangs from his face before firmly placing his hand on his forehead. Crap…
"…you have a fever." Was his bland response to the Matoran. Double crap. Matoro huffed and gently pushed his hand away.
"No, I'm fine. It's nothing, I sw- *cough*!- swear." He coughed out firmly. Not that any of his lies could get past Nuju. Sick or not, guy was a living lie detector.
"Don't lie to me Matoro. You knew you were sick and came in to work anyways? What were you thinking? !" Nuju snapped. Matoro bit his lip and frowned.
"I said I'm fine! It was nothing, just a bit over 101 and-"
"101! Matoro, you're not an idiot! Any fool knows that a fever that high in this kind of environment is bound to spike and make you seriously sick! Especially for someone of your health, you know better!"
"Ugh, yes, I know I have the immune system of a Stone Rat! But I am fine! You know how much I hate missing work!"
"And you should know how much I detest your stubbornness and hard head."
"I'm not stubborn!"
Nuju sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. He honestly wished Matoro wasn't sick for this exact reason alone, if only to avoid making Matoro worse by getting him all wound up like this. Stupid little brat…
"And anyways, my health, quite frankly, isn't any of your business!" Matoro snapped.
He instantly regretted those words the moment they left his mouth. The look Nuju fixed him with could have killed an army of Manas. He knew he was an idiot for saying such words, but honestly, it really wasn't Nuju's business. He's taken care of himself just fine before he met him, and why should a Turaga of all people care if one of his subordinates was a little under the weather?
"Excuse me?" Nuju said rather slowly, only adding to his intimidation.
"I…I said…" Matoro gathered what he could of whatever sense of dignity he had left before responding with crossed arms, "It is none on your business, SIR."
Nuju had long since grown used to that feeling of what he could describe as a tiny string snapping in his head from his Matoran's smart-ass mouth. He has also grown SOMEWHAT used to Matoro's…how shall he put it? 'Charming quirks'? Yes, that's it. He has long since grown a little used to his 'charming quirks', and if anything, it was those quirks that actually influenced Nuju into hiring the Matoran. Not many had the bearings to stand up to him and outwardly sneer in his face after all, he was a rare find.
However, that didn't mean he always found it enduring. It was one of those things that one loves to hate, and hates to love. A rather poetic mindset, all things considered. But back to the problem at hand here. Said problem had outwardly told him off and was currently trying (and failing) to seem intimidating. In fact, that pout that was supposed to be a frown only made him look cute. Add to the crossed arms and position sitting on the floor, it did nothing in making him look in any way, shape, or form intimidating.
But anyways, whether Matoro was being a brat or not, he was obviously sick. A sick Matoran had no business in working. Even more so, his Matoran had no business in working, especially with a fever like that, and especially with his poor health. They already had a few scares in the past due to Matoro's asthma (2), they didn't need a repeat of the pneumonia outbreak from a few years ago.
And judging by that faint wheezing he was picking up, it didn't look like they were going to have an easy case of the sniffles anymore. And it was all Matoro's fault!
Matoro's frown deepened as a few moments passed with Nuju doing nothing but staring at him with a contemplative look on his face, and after another moment passed, he decided now would be a great time to make a break for it.
"So, um, yeah. Now if you will excuse me, I'll be taking my mask back and-hey, what are you-? WHAT ARE YOU-! ? Wait, NO-!"
X~X~X~X~X~X
"Put. Me. Down. NOW!" Matoro all but shrieked.
Once again underestimating just how strong Nuju still was, he found himself currently slung over Nuju's right shoulder and being carried through the village towards his home. Matoro couldn't begin to decipher just HOW he got into this mess. At least not with this sudden splitting headache he just acquired.
And the looks he was getting from his fellow Matoran…if the fever wasn't making him turn red, this certainly was! And not to mention the few snickers and giggles he was getting from them.
And Nuju was acting so damn casual! Like he was simply going on a morning stroll and NOT dragging his struggling, shrieking, wheezing, coughing, and kicking assistant back home! He could strangle him if he could reach his damn neck!
"Damn it all you stupid jerk, put me down right NOW! I swear by all that is holy, I will GUT you if you do not put me down NOW!"
Nuju simply ignored his tantrum-struck Matoran as they passed by another group of rather interested Matoran along the way to his assistants' hut. He vaguely noted in the back of his head how far the Matoran was from his own adobe. Making a left just around the edge of the village, he made the trek up a small hill where a few huts stood, one being his Matoran's own home. Nuju made a mental note to berate Matoro later on for making this kind of trek with a fever like that.
He stopped in front of Matoro's home, and ignoring the indignant squawks and feeble struggles, fished the hut's key out of Matoro's coat pocket. While he was in said coat. Well, more like wrapped in it like a restraint cocoon. Once unlocked, he strode into Matoro's hut, passing the living area, and down the short hall and into Matoro's organized bedroom. He did all this without so much as a change in his nonchalant expression.
"This is your last warning, if you don't put me down right now, I'm going to take that staff of yours, and shove it up your-whoa!"
"There, you're down, happy?" Nuju asked after tossing Matoro back first onto his bed.
"No! You stupid jerk, you KNOW how much I hate being manhandled!"
"Yes, and YOU know how much I despise your childish attitude." Matoro simply gave him a point blank glare.
"…I hate you."
"I know."
"You make me sick."
"Noted."
"I hope you choke in your sleep."
"Well said."
"I'll sneak into your room at night…and murder you…with Turaga Matau's face."
Nuju wasn't sure whether or not to actually be intimidated by that last one, but hey, whatever floats the kid's boat…
"Hush now, get under the covers, and stay here. I'm not leaving you here alone until you're cooperating."
"And you kidding me! ?"
"You know I don't have a sense of humor." Matoro practically bristled like a pissed off cat…or more like a Muaka cat. The kid could be scary when he wanted to be. Now all they needed were some cat ears, whiskers, and a tail and he'd pull it off perfectly.
Nuju barely had the will to hold in the pack of laughs that threatened to careen out of his mouth. What a mental image…
"Just relax, brat. I swear, you're just as bad at taking orders as Ehrye sometimes." he said as he calmly stepped out of the room, contemplating about giving the Matoran a few sleeping pills so he could rest. Two should probably do it.
He wasn't even a foot out of the doorframe before an eight and a half sized snow boot came flying just barely past his head and into the back wall. (3) Ok, maybe three…
He looked back at Matoro, and just barely managed to retreat before the second boot followed its other into the wall, this time leaving a dent in it. Nuju stared at the dent in the wall for a moment, ignoring Matoro's threats and grumbles…
Splurge the bottle. Right…
Why did he think this was a good idea…?
After a long while of arguing, boot throwing, and a bit of physical restraining, Matoro was finally too exhausted to fight back anymore. And as Nuju had predicted, his fever had spiked to 102 and was slowly climbing. His breathing was also becoming more labored, his wheezing more noticeable and congested.
Apparently it wasn't a good idea to get a Matoran so riled up when he was sick. It was an even worse idea if Matoro was that Matoran. Though with how foul Matoro was acting, many would assume him to be perfectly healthy, if not a bit violent.
As a personal rule, Matoro couldn't miss work for 'trivial' things like a small fever. He loved his job and loved being around Nuju so much. He had to be doing something to keep his mind occupied, or else he'd go off and do something stupid. Although his part time Muaka hunting job was a good way to burn off his jitters, it was his mind that needed to get a good work out if he was going to sleep at night.
Nuju personally blamed his coffee addiction. If the Matoran didn't get his morning coffee, it spelled hell for anyone within a ten meter radius. Nuju tried to once wean him off the stuff and onto tea or something, only to get a caffeine-withdrawn Matoran with a mouth that would make Teridax himself cry. He still had the scar after he was stupid enough to let Matoro handle his staff at the time…
Though for now, he had to deal with a sick Matoran with a sour attitude.
"I swear to Mata-nui Turaga, one of these days…!"
"Yes, yes Matoro, straight to the moon. I've already heard it…twenty four times already. Now shut up and say 'ah'." Nuju chimed.
"It was twenty-two, and like Kharzani I am…" his voice was but a very raspy whisper.
"I could just force feed it to you…"
"Oh I would love to see you try…" Matoro said with a smirk.
…ok, so he was hoping that would make Matoro cooperate, but it seems his threat was futile. And like he would actually force feed Matoro the soup, he didn't feel like having his fingers bitten off by the little monster. But he did have to get it into him; he couldn't take the medicine alone without something in him or else it would make him worse.
"I can do it myself, damn it…" Matoro grit out.
"I am well aware of this. But where's the fun in that? And watch your language."
"…sadistic bastard."
Why Nuju was letting the Matoran off the hook with his foul mouth, he would never know. Maybe it was because he was getting sadistic pleasure out of babying him. Matoro wasn't sure.
Nuju simply smirked at the flustered Matoran. Really, he was too cute sometimes. He only wished he had a camera. This would make for some seriously good blackmail-er…memories. Yes, memories.
"Don't be a brat. Just relax and open up." Nuju practically sang, only making Matoro bristle even more.
He held the spoon of the steaming soup close to Matoro's mouth with a grin, taking pleasure out of getting a chance to baby the Matoran he considered a son. Matoro huffed and turned his gaze away in indignity. Really, he was just too cute sometimes.
"…give me that." He tried snatching the spoon away to eat it himself, but Nuju snatched his wrist before he could do anything.
"Ah-ah-ah, you're going to let Nuju do this for you, no arguments." Just why did he have to talk in the third person?
"Ugh…! Fine! Just…make it quick…" Matoro grit out. Honestly, if he kept gritting his teeth like that, his jaw might fall off.
Nuju smiled that smartass smile of his and again brought the spoon close to his mouth. Reluctantly, Matoro cracked open his mouth and allowed the other, with a restrained fist, to feed him. He swore to every god he knew of that whatever happened in his hut was going to stay in his hut. If anyone saw him letting his Turaga do this, his life would officially be over.
"Does Matoro like it?" Nuju crooned. The absolute death glare he received was enough to get him to shut up, but still wear that stupid grin of his.
The soup now gone, Matoro was oddly feeling drowsy, but wrote it off as just plain exhaustion and his fever taking him over. And as Nuju collected the bowl and spoon, he asked where the medicine was. Nuju blinked at him for a moment before responding, as if remembering something.
"Oh, that. I actually spiked it into the soup since I figured you'd only put up half the fight if I gave them both to you at once." he said nonchalantly.
'Are you SERIOUS!' Matoro thought, his expression bordering between looking like a gaping fish and a really ticked off Kane-ra bull.
"You are such an ASS!" he shrieked, not realizing he was swaying slightly due to the five and a half capsules worth of sleeping meds, plus cold medicine, spreading through his systems.
"So I've heard. Now just lie down and rest. Once you wake up, Nuju will make you a nice lunch, alright?" there was that suck-ass grin again…
"Oh for the love of f-"
"Language young man. It's unbecoming of a child to talk so foully."
"I'm not a child! I'm just young and short!"
…wait, what! ?
"UGH! You bastard! This is all your fault! I hate you!" Maybe it was the fever getting to him, or the medicine was making him a bit loopy, but honestly, Nuju was having a very difficult time keeping himself from laughing outright at the hysterical Matoran. He actually admitted he was short! (4)
Rolling his eyes in amusement at Matoro's hysteria, Nuju gripped the young Matoran's shoulders and forced him to lie down and prevent him from riling himself up any more than he was now.
"Yes, I know, I'm a sadistic ass and a jerk, and only you can seem to get away with calling me such. So just, for the last time, shut up, rest, and if you feel better in a few hours, I'll actually let you beat the tar out of me, if you haven't by then thanked me for letting you miss work. Deal?" he said.
Matoro gave him his Death Glare™ and actually growled at Nuju. It was a good forty seconds before the Matoran finally sighed, too tired now to argue. He just wanted to sleep now.
"Deal…" he huffed.
"Good. Now shall I help you change into your night clothes?" He teased, holding up Matoro's night shirt, from where he got, god only knew.
"THAT'S the line! Out!" Matoro snapped.
"Alright, alright, I'm only teasing you." Nuju chuckled mirthlessly, that ass-eating grin on his face only growing bigger.
"Tch, more like being a creep. Now get out. I can change myself." Matoro hissed, snatching his nightshirt off of Nuju halfheartedly. He was too tired to argue now.
"Alright, I'm just making sure."
"Yeah, well, thanks, I guess." Was the sarcastic reply.
"You're welcome, brat." Once all was said and done, Nuju surprised himself as he leant down and kissed Matoro's forehead, shocking the Matoran into a flustered mess. Nuju himself was in no better shape, still too shocked at realizing what he did. Now would be a good time for him to make an escape.
"So…um, just go to sleep. I'll check up on you in an hour or so." He hastily collected the dishes and made for the door before Matoro could say anything else.
That Matoran was still left a bit flustered and confused. Although it could be from the fever, but he was starting to feel a sudden warmth envelope his chest. His once sore throat didn't feel as constricted anymore, and he suddenly felt in the mood for a nap. He sighed, fidgeting with his nightshirt for a while before a tiny smile broke over his face. He was feelingly oddly at peace right now…
"You sure you don't need any help with that?" Nuju's head peaked back into his room not even a second alter.
And the mood was gone…
"OUT!"
X~X~X~X~X~X
By the third day of being bedridden and catered to like a spoilt child, Matoro's fever finally broke and his other symptoms vanished with it. Matoro was immensely relived his time of 'confinement' was over and he could get back to work.
So when he entered Nuju's office in quite a good mood despite Nuju babying him relentlessly the previous few days, he didn't expect to find Kopeke, Ehrye, Kopaka, and Nuju laughing and looking at something.
"What's so funny?" he asked curiously. The three looked up at him, and not a moment sooner, Ehrye burst into giggles, Kopaka merely smirked ominously, while Kopeke blushed fiercely. Nuju simply grinned at him.
"Oh nothing in particular." He said. Matoro instantly rushed over and looked at the photo that was held in Nuju's hand. He shrieked in outrage and proceeded to kick Ehrye, Kopeke, and Kopaka out of the hut.
Nuju simply chuckled and gazed fondly at the picture of a deeply sleeping Matoro snuggling his penguin plushie with a tiny smile on his face, his cheeks flushed a tinge red from his once thriving fever adding a childish air to the picture. Ah the memories…
"Oh Nuju~…"
Nuju looked up and blanched slightly. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to prop his staff up by the door where a certain flustered Matoran could get to it…
Oh well, it was worth it.
X~X~X~X~X~X
A/N~ To those of you who have read the original, un-revised version of this, I KNOW you're see a HUGE amount of differences. And if not, then you fail at life and writing. Please die.
Anyways! Like I said, this fit my mood currently because, well, I'm sick to begin with. What better time to re-write a sick-fic then when you're sick? XD
So please enjoy this little bit of fic-food while you await my update to Pacifier!
1.) This is important to my version of HUMANIZED!Bionicle people! You see, their masks are a bit different than what others usually think of. Instead of solid masks that they wear over their faces, they were tribal masks that they PAINT on their faces! Tribal masks are a great reference, because certain marks symbolize status and rank in a tribe. In here, that somewhat applies to that ranks of Matoran, Toa, and Turaga. However! These marks are just the 'bare' mask. Whenever a Matoran wishes, or as a defense mechanism to protect the face, the 'solid' mask will form over the face. Here Matoro has manually 'summoned' his mask to cover his face. And once a mask is removed, the face is bare of the actual mask and paint, because the 'paint' itself is the mask in its barest form. Solid masks are first made my mask makers, given to a wearer, take on the color of the Matoran's tribal trademark, then 'sink' into the face, and thus leaving the painted markings. These marks can be washed off, but only on Matoran. Once the marks are removed, they need to be repainted; otherwise they cannot summon their solid mask. Ga-Matoran often have their masks formed when doing water-based jobs, thus protecting their paint markings. Only and Toa and Turaga have 'permanent' face markings. They could be more described as tattoos actually, but they can be changed if the Toa/Turaga changes solid masks. Wearing their masks as bare or solid is entirely up to the wearer, but is sometimes required as solid in certain job fields (warrior, mask maker, smelter, miner, etc) for safety reasons. Better to have a broken mask than a broken face, as they say. More details will be later published in the 'my take on Humanized!Bionicle' fic that will be coming soon!
2.) Yes, I gave Matoro ashtma. It honeslty seems to fit him, all things considered. lol
3.) He wears 8 and a half sized boots. lol tiny feets~...well, tiny to me. I'm a size 9-10 shoe. TwT
4.) I imagine him to be around 5"6 to 5"8 in my mind.
REVIEW PLEASE!